


A Threat Not Taken Lightly

by Bowm8935



Series: What Happens In Kirkwall [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mage Rebellion, Shameless Smut, anders leads it but it is much more peaceful this time, hiding out in a hunting lodge run by the carta, meredith is still crazy, yay for peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cullen finds out Carver's life may be on the line, he is forced to step past his comfort zone to save him.</p><p>Direct sequel to Rest Day Relaxation</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Threat Not Taken Lightly

“Something needs to be done. You can’t continue to treat mages this way!”

Cullen gently massaged his temples as the bickering continued in front of him. A couple of weeks ago, a faction within the College of Magi had made itself known, their beliefs more radical than the stance the College itself publicly took. Thedas still had a lot of distrust toward mages from years upon years of magical abuse, and had only abolished the Circles within the last century. Over a half-century of chaos came while the chantry and cooperative mages tried to determine a working structure to keep things under control before finally coming up with the idea of Colleges of Magi and enacting it a decade ago. It took years to erect a fully-functioning College, and Kirkwall’s was still fairly new.

All mages were to be registered, to help the chantry keep a running count of where and how many there were. The registration itself was tedious; it had to be updated every two years to include the schools of magic specialized in, location, job, marriage/children, if the mage was keeping up on the continuing education requirements, etc. Many felt like it gave the Chantry _too_ much power over them, a leash that could be used to strangle if needed.

Cullen mostly thought it was necessary.

He had been present in Ferelden’s College, a young Templar stationed there to help with studies, stop fights and keep an eye on any potential blood mages. While the Chantry had backed off on their old “all magic is terrible” view and had amended it to “blood magic is terrible,” suspicion was still paramount in their training. Harrowing- an old, rather archaic practice of forcing a mage to face a demon in order to ensure their strength- had been picked back up by the dean of the College as a “necessary means to determine how the mage will fare in the outside world.” Irving had been one of the only to decide this was a solution; most dismissed the ritual, preferring it to be left to the old history books to deal with. For with the Harrowing came possible death- if the mage failed and was possessed, there was a large chance they would be killed. Research and time had brought about possible alternatives; ways to enter the Fade to kill the demon and separate it from its host, but they were not always reliable.

It was one such Harrowing that heralded the downfall of Ferelden’s College.

“Young man, we do what is necessary to ensure the protection of the city of Kirkwall, and you would do well to remember that!” Cullen shifted his eyes over to his boss, her long blonde hair swept back in a loose tie. Meredith was staring at the man standing in front of her, her eyes icier today than usual. Then again, she always seemed that way when facing _any_ mage, let alone the problematic one that was here today. “If we were to place any more trust in mages, then we would be allowing blood mages and abominations to roam freely in our streets!”

Her opponent, a young mage with strawberry blonde hair and fiery amber eyes, simply rolled his eyes at her statement. “Why do you _insist_ that every mage is dangerous?” he argued fervently, gesturing to those around them. “There is just as much of a chance that one of your _Templars_ could be corrupt and go on a killing spree as there is for a mage!”

Meredith let out a derisive snort, narrowing her eyes and stepping close enough to place an accusing finger into the man’s chest. “But a _Templar_ couldn’t take out a full city block with just a wave of his hand, now could they?” she snarled, finger pressing harder into his shirt. “It's not even comparable.”

A quieter voice spoke up as a dark haired, bearded man stepped forward next to the mage. “With all due respect, Knight-Commander,” he spoke, tone polite and voice level. “That’s not _entirely_ true. A smite from a fully-trained Templar could level _more_ than a single block. I’ve seen it happen, in Ferelden.” There was a look of intense sorrow on his face, something Cullen recognized because it was an expression he wore himself when he thought of his old home.

Meredith retracted her finger, turning to face the newcomer with a slightly less hostile glare. “Messere Hawke,” she started, tone warning, “I would recommend you not get involved with this… this riff-raff!” She gestured sharply at the blonde mage, who responded by huffing and crossing his arms. “He and his followers are against everything the Chantry stands for!”

Hawke laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, exchanging an amused glance with him. “ _Anders_ is hardly the criminal you make him out to be. He simply has some concerns about the restrictions placed upon _our_ kind here in Kirkwall, as he rightfully should.”

Cullen could see that Meredith was nearly vibrating in anger, her fists closed and jaw clenched as she tried to control herself. “This conference is _over_ ,” she gritted out between her teeth, her voice full of venom. “Good day to you, Messere.” She turned and marched away regally, head held high and posture straight. Cullen watched her go, debating whether he should follow her or not. His schedule was remarkably clear today, and he had intended to use it to go down to the training yard. It had been far too long since he had practiced at the shooting range, something that could cost him if he didn’t rectify it.

“Hello, Knight-Captain,” came a voice much closer to him than he expected, and he jumped in surprise, looking up to see Hawke had moved next to him. Unlike his brother, Garrett Hawke was at almost the same height as Cullen himself, allowing him to look straight ahead to see the slight amusement present in the man’s eyes.

“Good morning, Messere Hawke,” he responded, bowing slightly to the man in front of him. “Please allow me to apologize for the Knight-Commander’s behavior.” He may agree with a lot of her thoughts on mages, but he didn’t have to agree with her methods or how she lost her temper consistently.

Hawke let out a rich laugh, clapping a hand on Cullen’s shoulder in companionship. “It doesn’t matter, we’ve heard much worse. Right, Anders?” The blonde mage behind him gave an annoyed noise of consent, staring at Cullen with narrowed eyes and his arms crossed. It was obvious he didn’t care much for him, and Cullen would be lying if he said it wasn’t a mutual feeling.

“Still, it was not proper,” Cullen insisted. Hawke’s laughter trailed off, the man flashing an easy smile at him as he lowered his arm. Cullen shifted slightly to his heels as he asked what had been on his mind for a few weeks: “So, uh, h-how is your brother?” He unconsciously raised his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it and smiling uneasily at the man before him.

Hawke stalled, giving Cullen a bemused glance. “You want to know about _Carver?_ ” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Behind him, Anders gave an amused snort, scratching at his chin. Cullen shifted his position again slightly before nodding, unsure why the question in itself was odd or humorous. He was simply inquiring after a man he knew and was curious about; what was wrong with that?

Hawke stared at him for a few more seconds before shaking his head, a sad smile curling the ends of his lips. “Carver is, well, Carver. He’s still working at the hospital, though Maker knows why- it’s not like we need the money anymore. Still driving around that old pickup, trying to fix it up instead of just buying a new one. And still taking lessons in swordsmanship, oddly enough. It’s not like we’ll be returning to the age of having to fight Darkspawn with archaic methods, but whatever makes him happy, I suppose.” Hawke shrugged his shoulders, a baffled look upon his face. “He is almost never home anymore; I don’t think he likes the estate. But I suppose he was always a farmboy at heart.”

“A Ferelden, through and through,” Cullen added quietly, a fond look passing unwelcomely over his face. Judging by the fascinated turn of Hawke’s own expression, he most likely noticed, a fact that made Cullen groan inwardly.

“Yes, I suppose he is, at that,” Hawke conceded, raising his brows before taking in a breath and turning toward Anders. “But I suppose we should be going; lots of rebellious planning to do, and all.” He gave Cullen a parting wink as he strolled over to take Anders’ arm, the two walking in unison toward the elevator.

Cullen watched them leave, his mind a jumbled mess as he considered what to do next. He found that part of him wanted to drive over to the hospital and track down Carver, though for what reason, he wasn’t entirely sure… No, that was just him lying to himself. He knew the _exact_ reason he wanted to seek out Carver, and it was the same reason he continued to deny himself the pleasure.

He had pledged himself to the service of the Maker, and had no time for personal entanglements.

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a sense of loss at the thought. Gathering himself, he slowly headed to the stairs that would lead him to the downstairs shooting range.

 

* * *

 

Tensions continued to rise between the Chantry and the College as more mages joined the “radical group” led by Hawke and Anders. Hawke was garnering a lot of support for their cause with the nobles, using his wealth and influence – as well as his mothers’ – to further their cause. The more Cullen considered their requests, the more he began to realize that perhaps they were right. Mages were still being treated like they were less-than-human, given restrictions no other group would stand for. Even the elves had managed a successful rebellion, gaining an accepted place in the world that was leaps and bounds from where they had begun. But the mages were not given true equality.

He didn’t know where, precisely, he stood on the matter; on one hand, he understood firsthand how dangerous they could be and why people would want them leashed. On the other, they were humans and deserved to be treated as such.

The Chantry seemed to be coming around slowly to the concept as well, in part due to a former-brother-turned-Prince-of-Starkhaven, Sebastian Vael, who owed his crown to the elder Hawke and, rumor had it, to the twins as well. Prince Vael had used his influence within the Chantry to further the movement, and had appeared to be fairly successful. If both sides were patient, eventually a middle ground would be found that could be lived with for a few years while further negotiations were made.

Messere Hawke had made mages look better in the public’s eyes by staving off an infiltration attempt by Qunari spies bent on bringing the government of Kirkwall down. This had earned him the title of Champion of Kirkwall, which of course made Meredith grind her teeth as he continued to spread the influence of his and Anders’ rebellion. The Chantry touted him as their savior for a while, as some of the Qunari had planned on killing Grand Cleric Elthina, and he had managed to storm through the doors and save her just in time.

This was good. This was all excellent; mages and the Chantry working together to form a better world for all. Cullen was in full support of anything they could agree on. The Knight-Commander was another situation entirely. She had been becoming gradually more paranoid, starting to accuse any mage that so much as toed the (imaginary) line she had for them of using blood magic. He had had to step in more than a few times to allow for time for an adequate trial, something he found himself becoming weary of doing and that was starting to draw him the ire of his boss.

So it should not have been any real surprise to him the day Recruit Keran came bursting into his office, pale and shaking, barely able to use his voice when he asked for a few minutes of Cullen’s time. Cullen had been in the middle of going through the alarming about of incident reports filed within their building; safety seemed to be going to the wayside as Meredith riled up her people about a fictional war. He was in the middle of writing out a disciplinary plan for one of his Knight-Lieutenants, pen still on the paper when the door slammed open, hitting the wall loudly and causing him to jump nearly out of his chair, pen dragging the whole way across the paper as he moved. His other hand had started to reach for the gun at his side, relaxing when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

“Can I help you, Recruit Keran?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he crumpled the ruined form in front of him and tossing it easily into the wastebasket a few feet away. The young man was breathing heavily, and Cullen furrowed his brows as he took in the full state of the boy: skin ashen, face flushed (though that could have been from physical exertion), look of extreme panic upon his face. He flapped his mouth open and shut a few times, no sound coming out, before he snapped it shut and swallowed, taking a visibly shaken breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

“Kn-Knight Captain, I was w-wondering if I c-could speak with you in private?” he finally stammered out, voice faint and laced with dread. Cullen simply nodded, gesturing at the door. Keran shut it quickly, though with much more caution than when he had flown in. He must have belatedly realized where he was at that point, because he suddenly stiffened and changed his posture to what was expected when in a superior officer’s presence, a move which made Cullen’s mouth twitch as he held in a smile.

“At ease, recruit. Have a seat and calm down. Tell me what it is that has you so troubled.” He motioned to one of the two chairs in front of his desk, amused when Keran quickly flopped into one, his whole body sagging. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a few deep breaths before he finally looked back up at Cullen.

“I- I was in the bath, having just come off duty from my shift this morning and wanted a bath to, you know, clean up-” Cullen nodded, gesturing for the obviously still-shaken boy to continue. “And-And I got out, and was getting dried off by the lockers when I heard some voices. At first I ignored them because, you know, it’s a public bath so of course there’d be others there, b-but then I heard…” he trailed off, fidgeting slightly in his seat as he dropped his eyes to the ground.

“What did you hear, Keran?” Cullen asked softly, leaning forward in interest. Occasionally something like this would happen; someone would slip up on some mistake they had made with an unknown person around, and they’d end up ratting the person out. He had to admit that he always found it mildly amusing to dole out punishments where they were due when the guilty party had no idea how he found out. It made him seem slightly omniscient, something that served him well in his position.

He had heard all manner of things in the past, but not a single one of them prepared him for what was about to come out of his recruit’s mouth.

“Well, they-” Keran paused again, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath. Cullen visibly saw him steeling his spine, and vaguely wondered what could have him so anxious and scared to talk. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked right at Cullen as he said, “they are supposed to kidnap the younger brother of the Champion in two days’ time. To make him stop helping the rebel mages. And-and if he doesn’t pull his support…” he tapered off, face twitching in horror.

Cullen leaned forward further, gazing at the man intently. “If Messere Hawke doesn’t pull his support, what would they do?” he asked softly, afraid that he already knew the answer.

Keran made eye contact as he whispered the end of his sentence: “Then they will kill his brother.”

Cullen blinked, shock overtaking him. His mind had skidding to a complete stop as he worked to comprehend what he had just been told. _No. Not Carver_.

Snapping back to himself, he leaned closer yet, eyes burning through the recruit in front of him. “Do they know?” he asked softly, urgently. “Do they know that you know?”

Keran’s eyes widened, and he shook his head wildly. “N-no, at least, I don’t think so.”

“Good,” Cullen breathed, sitting back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do not tell anyone else about this plot, and _especially_ not you informed me of its existence. In fact, deny that you ever saw me today. That is an order, recruit. Do you understand?” When Keran affirmed that he did, Cullen pointed at the door. “Now go, enjoy the rest of your day. I will handle this from here on out.” Keran nodded and clamored to his feet, stumbling toward the exit. He exited with little ado, closing the door and disappearing, allowing Cullen a brief respite.

To anyone who would have walked in, Cullen looked the essence of calm and collected. In reality, he was a storm of emotions, his mind running through all sorts of scenarios and different reasons why would be happening. He knew who had to be at the front of the plan: Meredith, for no one else would be able to enact something so nefarious and have kept it hidden. Pity for her that her henchmen had spoken about it in front of Keran.

He didn’t have to deliberate _why_ Carver was the intended target; killing the Champion himself would be too high-profile, and with Anders leading the rebellion- whom he was rumored to be romantically involved with- it would only lead to more chaos, possibly tipping the scales into a more violent outcome. That was obviously not desirable. Bethany had been whisked away to Starkhaven recently, now the Prince’s betrothed. That left Carver or Lady Hawke, and who would be easier to get alone? The one who wanted nothing to do with the life of nobility, who still carried on his normal day-to-day activities as though he were one of the rabble.

He drummed his fingers on the desk as he tried to decide what he should do. Obviously he needed to stop this, but without having a true indication as to _who_ would be carrying out the action, it was much harder. He could let the Champion know, but that also risked leading them into dire water. No, he would have to find the man himself, and try to talk him into going into hiding.

Mind made, he stood up, reaching over to grab his jacket as he left to go find Carver.

 

* * *

 

He was not at the hospital; apparently it was a day off. Cullen had asked to speak with his boss, telling her point-blank that Carver would not be coming into work for at least a week. When she had protested, he had insisted that it was Templar business, and any retaliation against Messere Hawke’s job would be a personal offense against the Chantry. She had instantly quieted, resigned to the fact that one of her employees was to be absent for an unknown amount of time. He had then thanked her (he was a gentleman, after all) and left, hoping to catch either Carver or Lady Hawke at their estate.

It was the latter, of course, and she had welcomed him inside, inviting him to stay for afternoon tea. He declined, informing her that he needed to speak with her son immediately. At first she tried to tell him where Garrett was, a mistake he might have found amusing under normal circumstances. He gently corrected her, surprised when she had to take out her cell phone and call the man in question to find out his location. A slight tinge of red appeared in his cheeks when he heard Carver laugh loudly through the phone upon being told who was looking for him, a laugh that spoke of much more than simple merriment.

He had to remind himself that was _not_ the reason he was looking for Carver Hawke.

With a polite bow, he left her to whatever business a noblewoman would have at this point of the day, climbing back into the little car. Pulling out his phone, he typed in the address of a small gym on the outskirts of Kirkwall into his GPS, placing it upon a stand on the dash to help direct him. As he drove, he found he was driving through a part of Hightown he had never been to; his job had a tendency to keep him downtown and occasionally heading into Lowtown to scope out threats. Mostly he had to remain behind a desk, much to his chagrin; he missed the days of wading into the thick of it himself.

The paved road changed to gravel when he took a left, driving through a small copse of trees to find a large, ranch-style house with a training ground outside. _Gym, indeed,_ he thought as pulled up to the indicated parking lot. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he climbed out of his car, shutting the door and letting his eyes drift around the area. He noticed there were only two other vehicles parked there; a brown SUV and a junky blue pickup truck. When he focused on the training ground, he squinted a bit at a figure moving in the distance; yep, there he was, swinging a monstrosity of a sword at some poor dummy. Cullen moved away from his car, walking until he came upon the fence separating the parking lot and the sparring ring. Placing his hands on the top of the rough wooden logs, he leaned over, watching the movement in front of him. Despite the severity of the situation, Cullen felt a small smile perk up his lips as he gazed at Carver. The man was moving as though he had been meant for this; his muscles rippled in the cutoff tee he was wearing as he swung the sword as though it weighed nothing at all, pivoting to deliver what would have been a killing blow against a live opponent. He hefted it over his head then, bringing it down quickly with enough force Cullen could hear the _whoosh_ of air from where he stood. He raised his eyebrows, impressed by Carver’s obvious skill with the- what was it called? Broadsword? A part of his mind tugged at him, whispering that he would have been better off being born in the day of the sword and shield, a fighting style much more personal. Using a gun was just so distant, so cold, and unfortunately easy to fire accidently.

“Enjoying the show?” Cullen was startled out of his thoughts to find Carver strolling toward him, a lazy smile plastered on his (handsome) face. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of black hair out of his eyes as he approached, the sides of his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“I-I, uh,” Cullen stuttered, hands shifting to clutch the fence as he came closer, the sweat glistening on his skin and causing his shirt to stick to him in a manner that left Cullen entirely too distracted. He took a deep breath, blowing it out gently through his nose as he attempted to focus on the present, on the reason he was truly there. “I have a pressing matter that I must discuss with you immediately,” he choked out, relieved to have managed to convey some sort of professionalism in his tone.

Carver raised a dark eyebrow at him, his smile changing into something entirely different and his eyes taking on a wicked sparkle. “Mmm, I bet you do,” he purred, leaning on the fence next to Cullen, one hand planted upon his hip. “Got a place you’d like to have this _discussion?_ ”

Cullen felt the blush rising up, reaching a hand behind his neck to rub at it awkwardly. _Keep your mind on why you’re here_ , he chanted inwardly, trying to contain the sudden impulse he had to leap the fence and tackle the man to the ground. _This is more important than carnal pleasure._

He cleared his throat, looking away from Carver to gaze into the distance; the better to remain focused. “If you would like to get changed, I would prefer to show you; speaking of it is not safe.” He realized the error of his wording right before Carver let out a low, enticing laugh.

“ _Show_ me? Knight-Captain, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Cullen dared a look out of the corner of his eye to see Carver watching him intently, that predatory smile still upon his face. “But I don’t need to get changed. This is what I have. Lead the way, ser.” He gestured toward the lot before climbing nimbly over the fence.

Cullen blinked rapidly, turning around to watch Carver saunter in the direction of his truck, throwing him a look over his shoulder that involved entirely too much wiggling of eyebrows. The color on his own face deepened as he moved forward to follow Carver, uncertain of the proper way to proceed.

This man always seemed to throw him off-balance.

Carver opened the door to his truck, throwing a bag he had brought from the ring with him in the seat before turning to look back at Cullen. “So? Where to?”

Cullen let out a small cough as Carver quite obviously spanned the entire length of him, features set in a smoldering look. _You will be the death of me if you keep that up._ “I, uh. We should return to your estate and speak in private, if at all possible; I would rather not involve your mother or brother unless there is no other option.”

“Kinky, but not my thing, Knight-Captain,” Carver laughed, smirking. He turned and stepped up into the truck, slamming the door shut behind him. Leaning out of the window, he added, “I’ll see you there, then.” There was the sound of the engine starting, and Cullen moved out of the way as Carver backed up, giving him a small wave before disappearing into the trees. Cullen stared at the empty road for a few moments after he had disappeared, breathing heavily.

It most certainly was not _right_ that he was affected this way. He needed to increase his time in prayer, to train his mind to focus on the Maker more so he wouldn’t give in to temptation.

How was he going to protect Carver if he could barely handle being around him without feeling like he was going to spontaneously combust?

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re back! I see you found my son?” Lady Hawke waved Cullen into the sitting room after Bodahn escorted him past the foyer. “He arrived ahead of you, and asked that I tell you that he was going to take a quick shower. He also asked that I show you to the garage, though I certainly don’t know _why_.” She paused, looking troubled at the prospect of having a guest inside such a place. “If you’d be more comfortable elsewhere, I can certainly direct you to the library, or the study…”

“The garage is quite fine, thank you. If that is where he wishes to speak, then that is where I shall be.” He cut her off, giving her a reassuring smile. He was rather relieved at Carver’s choice of venue, actually, because it meant that despite his heavy flirtations, he knew that Cullen was there to _talk_. Hopefully that fact would help chase away some of the heat he felt from their earlier interaction.

She returned his smile, though subdued, gesturing for him to follow her as she led him through the large hallway. At the end she halted, opening a rather plain wooden door (considering the extravagance of the rest of the house) and motioned him in. “I’m not sure there’s much _clean_ to sit on out here; he has a tendency to completely take over the space to work on that truck of his. Why he insists on keeping such a wretched thing, I’ll never know.” She shook her head in disbelief as she gazed at the aforementioned vehicle, a look of slight disgust on her face. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to let any of us know. He should be down shortly.”

Cullen inclined his head as she backed out and shut the door, leaving him alone in the spacious room. He wandered through the fairly messy area (Lady Hawke had not been kidding when she said that Carver took over everything; there were tools, rags, car parts and manuals scattered _everywhere_ ) until he found a rather ratty couch, pushing over some metallic contraption to make room to sit. The garage was a decent size; it held five vehicles, presumably one for each person living there, plus maybe Bodahn? He guessed the fifth to be Bethany’s, though why she didn’t take it with her to Starkhaven, he didn’t know. Maybe she had been given some incredibly high-end vehicle to replace it. One never knows with Princes.

The part that was obviously “Carver’s” was separated from the rest by a sort of makeshift wall that was fairly sloppily put up, the wood uneven and of different stains. Cullen thought it was humorous that the man must have found scraps to build it instead of using his family’s obvious fortune to hire someone to put in an aesthetically pleasing version. He must drive his mother _nuts_ , continuing to live as they did before.

Cullen found it rather charming.

A small stand off to the side caught his eye, metal glinting in the fluorescent lighting. Fascinated, he stood up and closed the distance between himself the weapon stand in a few short strides, reaching forward gingerly to pick up one of the smaller swords. He wrapped his hand around the pommel, giving it a test swing in front of him. It was light, and felt like it was made to fit in his palm. A smile crept over his face as he imagined himself atop a horse, riding into battle with the sword at his hip and a shield on his back. Maybe he’d even be wearing some sort of furred cloak?

“That seems like it was made for you.” Cullen jumped in surprise, scrambling to keep hold of the sword. He mentally chided himself for allowing Carver to sneak up on him _twice_ in one day; he really needed to be more aware of his surroundings. In a work situation, his carelessness could have brought about his death.

Well. He supposed it could yet, considering what he was going to be attempting to do.

Carver let out a laugh as he rubbed a towel over his wet hair, approaching to stand next to Cullen’s side. “You’re so _jumpy_. You should know the pointy end will hurt if you drop it on your toe,” he teased, grinning widely at Cullen.

“I am very well aware of that fact, thank you,” Cullen grumbled as he carefully replaced the sword. He turned to find himself face-to-face with a smirking Carver, still lazily drawing the towel over his hair. Carver winked at him before tossing the towel on top of a pile of oil-soaked rags, causing Cullen to cringe at the thought of getting oil out of a _white towel._

Carver walked over to lean against his truck, one foot propped up against the front bumper, hands placed behind his head. “So. What was so important that you _had_ to pull me away from my sparring?”

Cullen let out a small huff of laughter. “Sparring? I do not think that training dummy stood a chance against you.” He wasn’t sure _anyone_ stood a chance against Carver. The man had been a force to be reckoned with as he slashed and stabbed and otherwise mangled the dummy.

“Mmm. That was a compliment, yeah? Surprised I impressed the Knight-Captain with my swordmanship, no matter how amazing it may be.” He puffed out his chest slightly, obviously proud of his on-the-field achievement.

Cullen flinched at the use of his title again; he thought they’d moved past the need for such things. “Please, call me Cullen,” he said softly, smiling shyly at the man in front of him. He felt another blush rising despite his attempt to tamp it back down, frustrated at how easily that happened around Carver.

Carver cocked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head to side. “Didn’t think you wanted me to go all informal on you, since you haven’t bothered to bloody call me or anything.” He pushed back the loose strand of hair, the gesture a little rougher this time; Cullen wondered for a brief moment if that was indicative of his mood at all.

“I-uh. I d-didn’t,” he stammered, hand kneading the nape of his neck. “Sorry,” he finished, giving Carver a sheepish look. The reasoning behind his lack of contact was actually fairly complex, and not something he wanted to delve into currently.

He had more pressing reasons to be there, anyway. As he kept having to remind himself.

Carver’s face softened a bit, and he returned the smile. Cullen did a small double-take upon realizing that, for once, Carver almost seemed as unsure of himself as Cullen felt; usually the man was so blunt and exuded a type of confidence that led Cullen to believe he always knew _exactly_ what he wanted and was not afraid to claim it in whatever way possible. “It’s okay,” he replied, shifting so that his elbows were on the hood of the truck, his hands dangling down. “What did you need to tell me, Cullen?”

Cullen took a deep breath, running his hand shakily through his hair. “This morning I had a harried recruit rush into my office to tell me of a plot he overheard to try to derail all the progress the mages have worked toward. It is a possible way to cause a key member of the group to back off, and one that may succeed, if given the chance to come to fruition.” He paused, looking up to gauge Carver’s reaction thus far. He had changed positions again, leaning forward with his arms crossed over his chest, a blank look upon his face except for the fire burning in his eyes.

Cullen suspected he had a vague idea of what he was about to say.

“They- a faction of the Templars, that is- plan to abduct you and use you as leverage against your brother. If he fails to comply with their wishes, they have orders to execute you.”

Carver inhaled sharply, multiple emotions fleeting across his face as Cullen watched him struggle to come to terms with the bombshell just dropped on him. “And you know for sure they plan to kidnap me?” he asked flatly, a look of simmering anger settling on his face. “They plan to use _me_ to get to my brother?”

Cullen nodded, remaining silent as he continued to observe Carver’s attempts to reconcile such a plan and how it affected his life. 

“But not my mother?” He pushed off the truck abruptly, shaking visibly. Cullen suspected this was caused by anger, not fear, since Carver seemed to gravitate toward the former of the two emotions.

“Not as of now,” he replied softly. “But it wouldn’t hurt to get her out of the city.”

Carver gave a sharp nod of his head, turning to make his way to the door leading into the house.

“Wait!” Cullen cried out quickly, a hand reaching out to the man retreating. Carver froze, body taut as a bowstring. “We- we can’t tell anybody _why_. I am taking a big risk just by telling you. If this gets out, it could be the end of peace negotiations between the Chantry and the-“

“So let me get this straight,” Carver growled as he whipped around to face Cullen. Cullen recoiled as Carver stomped toward him, anger seeping out of every pore. “You tell me that my life, my _family_ is threatened by your bloody _Templars_ and you expect me to just _keep it quiet?_ Like _shit_ , I will!”

“Carver, please, just listen,” Cullen begged, unconsciously reaching out to grab the other man’s hands. Carver stiffened at the contact and Cullen blinked in shock when his mind caught up to what his body had done, but pushed forward anyway. “I understand that this is asking a lot, but _please_ , do not tell anyone. If negotiations outright fail, Kirkwall will plunge into more chaos. It could mean another war similar to the one that destroyed the city centuries ago, and many innocents will fall if that comes to pass. I cannot allow that to happen, but neither can I sit back and do nothing. I fear that telling your brother of the plot will cause if not him, then Anders, to confront Meredith, and that just spells trouble. The Templars are a faction of the Chantry, after all, and such an occurrence could be disastrous. Please, I beg of you,” Cullen dropped to his knees in his desperation, a look of pure surprise passing across Carver’s face at the action. “ _Please_ , just find a way to get your mother away from here and then come with me, somewhere where I can keep you safe from this…this… this catastrophe in the making.”

Carver stared down at him, eyes wide and mouth agape as Cullen remained on his knees, holding his hands, anguish written across his face. “Stand up, Cullen,” he said hoarsely, wiggling his hands free to wrap around Cullen’s wrists, tugging him up. “There’s… no need for that. I’ll… I’ll stay quiet. Just, let me go speak with my mom. Fucking void,” he muttered as he released Cullen’s wrists once he was standing. “This is why I didn’t want to stay in this sodding city.” He turned and walked sullenly toward the house, slipping through the door and leaving Cullen alone to his thoughts once more.

He sat back down on the couch, waiting hopefully for Carver’s return.

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen stared at the mug in his hands, debating whether or not to drink the sorry excuse for ale that currently inhabited it. Fingers toyed against the thick glass, tapping nervously as he waited.

“Curly, you may as well calm down. Junior will be here any moment and then we’ll get you guys out of town, no problem,” the dwarf across from him said. He was seated lazily in a chair, feet resting on the table as he took a large drink from his own tankard. “And drink the ale. It’s only polite, since I bought it for you.”

Cullen wrinkled his nose in displeasure as he stared at the drink, raising the cup slowly to take a sip and cringing away the moment it hit his tongue. It really was disgusting, which wasn’t necessarily surprising considering _disgusting_ seemed the be the theme of this place. Carver had insisted they meet here, at The Hanged Man, because he “knew a guy” who would be able to help them leave the city in secrecy and who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut.

If Cullen had realized he was talking about Serrah Tethras, he might have argued.

Now, however, it was too late, he was here and sitting across from the dwarf. He had been unwilling to divulge any information at first until Carver had called him and given him a lashing through the phone, at which point he grudgingly told the tale. Varric, for his part, had remained quiet, nodding and taking a few notes throughout the story. The short story, as it were.

The sound of stomping on the stairs filled the hallway, a prelude to the door slamming open as a furious Carver entered. “Junior, if you break my door, you’ll have to replace it. And I mean pay someone to; I’ve seen your handiwork.”

“Sod off, dwarf,” Carver replied, though he shut the door softly this time.

Varric held a finger up, _tsk_ ing at the man. “Now, now, is that any way to treat someone who is helping you?” Carver grunted in response, pulling out the chair next to Cullen and flopping gracelessly into it.

“Are you gonna drink that?” Carver asked bluntly, pointing at Cullen’s mug. When Cullen shook his head, Carver reached over and swept it away, placing it to his lips to drink the entire thing down immediately. Tankard empty, he placed it on the table with more force than necessary, dragging a hand across his lips to wipe away any remaining residue. “You said you had a plan?” he asked, turning to face Varric.

The dwarf nodded. “Yes. For now, I’m sending you two to one of the Carta safehouses about two hours outside of Kirkwall. It’s a cabin with a very high-end security system; we will be uploading your fingerprints into it and that will only allow you two, myself, and a few other people necessary to your safety entry. Since we have no idea how long you will be there, we have the pantry fully stocked, but if you run out of anything, there will be a dwarf stationed there you may ask to procure you more. While you two are out hiding, I will have spies infiltrate the Templars to determine who is involved in this mess and root them out. Then we will take care of the issue.”

“How, exactly, will you _take care_ of the issue?” Cullen asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

Varric shrugged, choosing to give a non-answer. “However we determine is necessary. Once it is safe, we will call you to come back. Junior, we arranged for your mother to be invited to a prominent noblewoman’s party in Antiva. The family goes by the name Montilyet, and they owe us many favors. I called one in to have your mother remain there as long as possible. I will also be sending some Carta to be there under the guise of private security, to make sure she is protected as well. Your brother is already surrounded by us 24/7, and has been since he became involved in this mess. Anders too, if you care.”

Carver rolled his eyes at the mention of the blonde mage, but did thank Varric for keeping both his mother and brother safe. “What about Bethany?” he asked, and Cullen saw the flash of worry on his face.

Varric chuckled. “I think she is fine, surrounded by the Prince’s finest. It would be surprising if he allowed anyone to get close enough to harm her. He is quite enamored with her, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Carver replied, sneering. “She deserves better.”

“If you say so, Junior, though I don’t know that she could do any better than Prince Vael. He’s a kind man, faithful to the Chantry, and, hmm, a prince?” Varric raised an eyebrow, tone jesting. Carver shook his head, gazing forlornly at the empty glass in front of him. “Anyway, we have a car out back waiting to take you to your new, temporary home. Whenever you’re ready. Oh, and you’ll need to leave your phones.”

Both men started to protest, but Varric held up a hand to silence them. “You should know that you can be tracked with them. We do have a way to disable that, but it will take a few days to get it done. Once they’ve been determined safe, we will return them to you. Okay?” He sounded like he was asking permission, but Cullen knew it was actually not something he could deny. He reached into his pocket, reluctantly placing the cellular device on the table in front of him. A rustling sound to his side let him know Carver was doing the same.

“Alright!” Varric said, clapping his hands together as he stood, tone jolly. “Let’s get you two outta here!”

 

* * *

 

The _cabin,_ as Varric so succinctly put it, was less of a cabin and more of a _lodge._ If he didn’t know how the carta operated, he would have considered it a hunting lodge. As they approached the edge of the land it was on, his eyes were drawn to the two-story high rather frightening fence, the bottom lined with steel that seemed crackle visibly with electricity- or maybe he was just imagining it, there’s no way his Templar skills could pick up on that, right?- and topped with barbed wire. It was definitely designed to keep people out…and others, in. He shuddered at the last thought, thankful that he was coming here willingly. Even so, he might normally have decided to hop a train to nopeville after seeing this if not for the fact that he trusted Carver, who seemed to trust Varric.

Thus, they continued in through the just-as-threatening large metal doors without any vocalized complaint from him.

Carver was gazing out the window, a defeated look in his eyes. It had been a rather heated argument when he had to convince Carver that leaving Kirkwall was the best option instead of staying and fighting. The man was extremely willing to make sure everyone else was out of danger- even his brother, who would probably attract trouble wherever he went, if he remained focused on his cause- but rather stubborn about leaving himself. Cullen had found out firsthand just how loud Carver could get when he was angry, and had found himself slightly cowed when Carver towered over him, vibrating in anger. If not for his firm belief that he needed to get him away, he might have given in to the man’s wishes. That was a new experience; ever since he became Knight-Captain, he found he was hardly ever intimidated by people, and especially not civilians. Carver defied that rule.

In fact, Carver defied many of the things Cullen had considered fact. He had difficult piecing together how the enigmatic man seemed to easily slide into his life, casually tossing aside things Cullen had believed to be concrete before. His beliefs, his calling (for it was the threat of Carver’s life being nulled that caused him to walk away from the Templars, was it not?) and his desires.

The car pulled up to the front of the building, a large, two-story elegant wooden structure. The outside was beautiful, the wood stained a lovely golden oak color, a well-kept hedge surrounding it. He stepped out of the car, Carver following suit on the other side, and they approached the lodge together.

If Cullen had thought the outside attractive, the inside made it look plain.

The bottom was one spacious room, the only walls caused by the stairs that led to the upstairs, where he presumed the bedrooms to be, and a bathroom. A large fireplace was against the back on one side, crackling and roaring as flames licked the grate in front. Several plush-looking couches and sitting chairs were placed in front, a big-screen TV above the hearth. Bookshelves lined the wall by the fireplace, filled to the brim with an assortment of reading material. Behind the sitting area was a grand mahogany table with several chairs surrounding it, a bay window overlooking the garden outside. The other side of the downstairs was composed primarily of the kitchen- Cullen had never seen such an enormous one in his life- with high-end appliances of every kind. Tucked away in a corner was the bathroom, which, while smaller than the rest of the rooms, was quite large itself.

“Bloody void,” Cullen heard Carver whisper next to him, and turned to see him looking around in awe. The place was decorated as though it were indeed a hunting cabin, antlers and other trophies placed on the wall, accompanied by great canvases of the sweeping outdoors.

It was absolutely gorgeous.

Cullen exchanged a large smile with Carver. “Let’s go see what the upstairs is like,” Carver said excitedly, brushing back his hair roughly. Cullen was amused by the childlike enthusiasm the grown mad was emanating, but just the same he hurried up the stairs after him.

The upstairs was only half of the area of the downstairs, holding two bedrooms and a bathroom sandwiched in between. The bathroom housed a Jacuzzi and a double vanity, both luxuries Cullen had never had before. The bedrooms were the same size, holding a lush king-size bed and beautiful cherry furniture. Carver was the first to lay claim to one, Cullen not particularly minding where he slept. He quickly went downstairs to retrieve his luggage, rushing back to the room he’d stay in and falling face-first into the mattress. Yes. It was just as soft as it looked. He had never felt anything so _comfortable_.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to remain here. This could actually qualify as a _vacation_.

With a smile on his face, Cullen sat up and started unpacking, looking forward to his time here.

 

* * *

 

The grounds outside were huge, having a small grouping of trees in the background, a rather impressive garden and a large open area. Cullen had been rather amused to see a few dwarves show up one day to install a couple of wood-and-straw dummies for Carver to beat up, and even moreso when he found out that Carver had managed to bring along all of his swords. Not a day passed that Carver didn’t spend a significant amount of time working at the skill, and not a day passed that Cullen didn’t figure out a way to watch him unseen. He was fascinated with both the movements, the way he swung the sword and how his feet would work to keep him moving at an impressive speed, but also was impressed with how Carver _looked_ during these matches against the poor dummies. He often went shirtless while training, a pair of athletic shorts and sneakers the only thing on him. Because of this, Cullen could see how his muscles moved in extreme detail, and that, topped off with the dual combo of concentration and pure, unadulterated joy that filled the man’s face when he swung his sword had a tendency to drive Cullen into a frenzy. When Carver would stop, panting and dripping with sweat, Cullen would slip off to his room to relieve the tension built up, occasionally letting himself relive the night at the mansion months ago. He sometimes would imagine that it was not his hand he felt, but that of Carver, and would remember how he had whispered in his ear.

 

 

> _“You know what I want?” Carver’s voice was low and rough, and he followed up the question with another bite. “I want to be down on my knees in front of you, your cock in my mouth, sucking and licking and watching you come undone.” Cullen’s breath caught at the words, the image playing before his eyes; it was almost too much. “I want to fuck you, and for you to fuck me. I want to make you scream my name so loud all of Kirkwall will know their Knight-Captain is being fucked by Carver bloody Hawke.” Carver’s free hand moved from Cullen’s hip to his hair, tangling in the curls that were beginning to free themselves and yanking his neck back further, allowing him the ability to lean down and bite his collarbone, hard. “Come for me,_ _Knight-Captain Cullen_ _.”_

Gasping, he would spill into his own hand, slamming his head back on his pillow in the aftermath. He was torn; he wanted to approach Carver, to shove him up against a wall and let his primal side take over. But he was also still scared, worried that if he allowed himself to fall to such base instincts that he would be failing his vows to the Maker.

So he chose to avoid Carver as much as he could, often only appearing to use the bathroom, grab food or fetch a new book to read. Cullen had mourned the loss of time to indulge in the pleasure of books with his promotion at work, and the ability to devour new tales or learn more about Thedas was exhilarating in itself. Not to mention it was a very adequate distraction, for delving into other worlds or deeper into his own kept his mind off of the man he was sharing the cabin with.

And it worked, for a while.

After about a week and a half had passed, Carver confronted him. “Are you avoiding me?” he demanded when he cornered him by the books. Cullen had not heard him approach yet again; for being such a large man, Carver was oddly adept at sneaking around.

Cullen tensed at the question, a million different answers whirling through his mind before he finally settled on the truth. “Yes,” he said simply, replacing the book he had finished and sliding a finger across the titles as he contemplated which one to read next.

“Why?” The tone had become slightly petulant, though still just as demanding, and Cullen sighed, dropping his hand and turning around to face him. Carver had his arms crossed over his chest, frowning deeply as he looked down at him.

“I avoid you because that is the logical way to handle the temptation I feel in your presence. The Chantry teaches we either have to confront temptation, or avoid it, and I am unsure if I would succeed at remaining stalwart should I attempt to confront this.” He turned back to the bookshelf, plucking one off of the shelf that he had decided mere seconds ago to read. Book held firmly in hand, he made to walk around Carver, unsurprised when the man reached out to stop him.

“You’re… you’re _tempted_ by me?” Carver asked softly, looking at Cullen in bewilderment.

Letting out another sigh, Cullen faced him again. “Yes. How could I not be? You are a very attractive man, surely you know that. Not to mention very skilled at a number of things,” Cullen held up his fingers, listing off what he knew Carver to excel at. “Massage, auto mechanics, swordplay, cooking, among… other things.” His face turned crimson at what he left unsaid; he felt he didn’t need to list off _that_ particular talent. “You are very intelligent, though you seem to attempt to disguise it by playing the part of a stereotypical Ferelden brute, for reasons unknown to me. You may be quick to anger, but logic can still be used to reason with you- something that can’t be said of many people, even those who control their rage in a more refined fashion.”

Carver had started to fidget at this point, blushing slightly himself with an embarrassed look upon his face. He dropped his eyes to the ground, brushing back the stray lock of hair softly. Cullen smiled as he looked up at the taller man, and continued, “You are kind, and you care about your family. So much so that you were willing to sacrifice yourself so that they would remain safe. I don’t see many men, nay, many _people_ like that anymore. You are absolutely remarkable, Carver Hawke, and don’t you forget it.” The hair had fallen back upon his forehead, and, against all better judgement, Cullen reached out and brushed it back, letting his hand trail down to his chin and pulling his face back up. Carver’s aquamarine eyes snapped up to meet his honey-colored, a look of wonder on his face.

“You know, if you wanted to get me in bed, you could’ve just asked,” he joked, though his tone lacked the humor it usually held. In its place was a soft-spoken awe, something he seemed to be trying to cover up. “No need to sweet talk me, I’m not a girl or anything.”

Cullen let out a chuckle, running a thumb across Carver’s jaw. “I never said you were. I simply decided it would not do for you to not understand _why_ you are such a temptation to me.” His skin was so soft, much more than Cullen would have expected it to be. “A temptation that I am not sure I can resist,” he murmured, tugging on Carver’s chin to bring him down to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

It felt like Carver melted against him, returning the kiss instantaneously, though without the animalistic vigor from the first time their lips met. This was a soft, questing brush of lips, an attempt to see if they could find what they wanted in the other.

For when Cullen had taken the time to list off every reason why he found Carver desirable, he had realized something he had been denying the entire time: it was not just a _physical_ attraction anymore. No, somewhere along the way he had crossed the threshold into emotional territory too. It frightened him, but somehow it softened the edges of his want, making it all seem much more acceptable. It was no longer an interest based on carnal wants of the body- it was much, much deeper than that.

And if he was judging Carver’s reaction correctly, it seemed this was mirrored by him.

Cullen pulled back, dropping his hand as he continued to look up at Carver. “I am going to go read some of this book now,” he said slowly, unable to keep the smile off of his face. “You are welcome to join me, if you would like, but feel no pressure to.”

A bright grin spread slowly across Carver’s face at the invitation, his answer being to grab Cullen and pull him into another kiss, this one searing and full of heat. Ah. This is what Cullen remembered. Unlike before when Carver had to physically move him closer, Cullen did so himself, pressing his body fully against Carver, allowing himself to revel in the feel of it.

“Not sure you’ll get much reading done if I join you,” Carver whispered before nipping at his lower lip. “So might be wise to read alone, if that’s what you _really_ want right now.”

Cullen let out a moan when Carver rubbed against him, feeling as his member started to stiffen at the contact and the heat coiling within. “I-I,” he stuttered, his words swallowed when Carver crashed their lips together again. Hands tangled into his hair, pulling his head gently back, allowing Carver to lunge forward and bite his neck, licking at the sore spot left by rough teeth. Carver continued to nip his way down, stopping at the collar of his shirt and making a slightly frustrated noise. There was no tie to loosen this time.

A knock on the door startled both of them into jumping apart, Carver casting a glare at the wooden object while Cullen chuckled quietly, running hands through his curly hair to make sure it was in an acceptable state. When it was obvious Carver was rooted to the ground and content to just glower, Cullen shook his head in amusement and headed to the entryway.

Varric stood just beyond the door, a large smile on his face. “Curly! Junior! How’s life treating you?” When Cullen stepped aside, the dwarf entered without hesitation, strolling over to take a seat in one of the recliners. “Tech finally finished with your phones, so I thought I’d return them.” Leaning forward, he dropped the two devices upon the coffee table, making a rather loud _clatter_ ing noise as they hit the wood.

Carver was still standing in the same spot as before, watching the dwarf, unamused. “And you had to deliver them yourself because?” He raised an eyebrow at the end of the question, and Cullen had to work hard to repress the laughter threatening to bubble over from his rather extreme reaction to being interrupted.

Varric leaned back, placing his hands behind his head as he gazed at Carver, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “Now Junior, is that any way to treat the man who helped you hide away from those who wanted to kill you?” Carver had the decently to look slightly abashed at the question, mumbling an apology under his breath. “I simply wanted to make sure that you and Curly didn’t go all Shining on me, killing each other.”

Cullen smirked at the reference to a popular book. “Well, good man, there is hardly any work here to make us reach that level of insanity, so I think you need not be concerned.”

Varric peered at him, curiosity evident in his face. “True, but Junior here can be a little shit. He may be enough to drive you crazy on his own.” Carver let out a small exclamation at the statement, irritation permeating his tone.

Cullen simply laughed, strolling forward to place a hand on Carver’s shoulder. “I find that I rather enjoy his company. So again, your concern, while touching, is unwarranted.”

Varric raised his hands into the air, shaking his head quickly. “Now, now, don’t go getting all _mushy_ on me. It just wouldn’t be good for business to have two people I’m supposed be protecting murder each other under my watch. Especially not the Champion’s brother and the Knight-Captain,” he added on, eyeing both of them warily. “You’re lucky I like you, Junior, otherwise I would have decided helping you two as too much of a risk. Too much shit that could go wrong.”

Snorting at the declaration, Carver replied sullenly, “I’m lucky you like my _brother_ , you mean.” Cullen glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, slightly concerned by the bitterness in his tone.

Shrugging, Varric stood back up, meandering toward the door. “Whatever. Either way, you’re lucky.” He reached the exit, turning around to wave at both of them. “I’ll see you later. Have fun doing anything _but_ killing each other.” The door shut behind him, leaving Carver and Cullen alone once more.

Carver let out an angry noise, shaking off Cullen’s hand and stomping into the kitchen where he pulled out the first alcoholic beverage he could (a brand of beer Cullen had never heard of), snapping it open and guzzling it at an alarming rate. Cullen’s eyes widened as he watched Carver finish it in what had to be record time, tossing the can into the sink carelessly.

“Carver?” Cullen approached carefully, slowly, unsure how to handle him like this. “What’s wrong?”

A mumbled line was what he got in response, too garbled to understand what Carver was saying. Taking a few steps closer, he dared again. “I couldn’t understand what you said, could you repeat it?”

“I said that I am tired of being simply ‘the Champion’s brother,’” he snapped, fire flaring dangerously in his eyes as he glared at Cullen. “I’m either that or some stupid noble. I didn’t choose to be either. I just want to be me. To be known as Carver, not Carver-the-bloody-brother-of-Garrett, not _Messere_ Carver Hawke. Just Carver.” The anger died out as quickly as it had come, leaving only an aching sort of emptiness behind. “I just want someone to like me for me,” he continued softly, his voice quivering slightly. When he looked back up at Cullen, it was apparent that he was fighting back tears. “Is that too much to ask?”

Cullen rushed forward, placing his arms around Carver and pulling him into a hug as though it were the natural thing to do, as though it was something he did all the time. After a brief hesitation, Carver reciprocated, his arms snaking around to behind Cullen’s back, his head coming to rest on one broad shoulder. “Carver,” Cullen whispered, stroking down the man’s back. “Do you not recall what I said earlier? I believe I listed off every reason that I enjoy your company; and not a single one of the things I listed related to your brother or your nobleman status in anyway.”

“You’d better not be lying to me,” came the thick voice over his shoulder. “Because if you are, I’ll bloody beat you for it.”

Despite everything, Cullen let out a small laugh. “I can assure you that I most definitely am not lying.” He gave Carver a couple of pats on the back before releasing him, stepping away and holding out a hand, which Carver looked at in confusion. “Come,” Cullen said, nodding to his outstretched palm. “If I have judged you correctly, you prefer to take out your anger on those poor, unsuspecting targets outside.”

Carver huffed, reaching out to grasp the proffered hand. “Yeah, guilty,” he admitted, giving Cullen a small smile. “Better than hitting other people, yeah?”

Cullen pulled him toward the door, smiling. “Yes, I would say that this is a _much_ better alternative.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so you want to stand in this position… no, no, no, like this… bloody void, Cullen…” Cullen smirked when Carver approached him from behind, kicking his legs apart into a specific stance. After the flurry of questions Cullen had unleashed about how he came into swordplay, and then how, specifically, it was done, Carver had laughed and dragged him out to face the dummy, asking him which sword he’d prefer to use. He only owned one shortsword, having chosen to practice primarily with the two-handed variety. There was a sole beaten-up shield as well, and when Cullen chose the combination of the two, Carver had rolled his eyes and made a few jabs about how he should have _known_ that was what Cullen would choose, being a protector and all.

Carver had taken enough lessons to have a fairly good idea of how to the handle the sword and shield, though, and he was a surprisingly patient teacher. Cullen had picked up fairly quickly, progressing further than Carver expected him to, earning him a few broad smiles as well as a cocked eyebrow whenever he messed something up. Such as he was doing currently, with his footing.

Well, that may have been on purpose.

“You need your feet to be like this, so you have more power behind your swing, yeah? So move your left food a little more this way,” Cullen felt Carver nudge his foot to the side and rearrange it slightly, before reaching around to grab his hand and shift its position on the grip. “Hold it more this way, yeah- that’s better, more balanced, feel it?” Cullen nodded, and Carver released him, backing up. “Okay, now try hitting the dummy.” When he swung at the middle and hit it with a much more resolute _thud_ , Carver let out a large _whoop_. “Much better! Maybe someday you’ll be good enough to spar with me.”

Cullen laughed, wiping the sweat off his brow as he went over to place the sword and shield back into the case Carver kept his weapons in. He had a long way to go to be proficient- if he had time to continue to practice when he went back to Kirkwall (if he still had a job, that is)- but it felt right, holding the two items, like they were _meant_ to be in his hands. A silly superstition, surely, but it was the way he felt, nonetheless.

He was leaning over and sliding the sword into the scabbard when he felt a hand lightly drag up his back. He shivered at the sensation, goosebumps cropping up over his skin. Shutting the box, he straightened, looking to Carver who was smiling wickedly at him. _Oh, my_ , Cullen thought as heat started to rise up in him. _I have seen that look before._

“So, _Cullen_ ,” Carver drawled, his voice dropping a bit lower than normal. “What do we do now?”

Cullen’s mouth twitched as he held back a smile, feigning innocence as he replied, “Well, ah, I do believe it is time for us to eat.” As if on cue, his stomach let out a rumble, Carver raising an eyebrow at the noise.

“’Spose so, though the question is: what do we eat?” He let out a hearty laugh when Cullen blushed, shouldering past him playfully. “When are you going to stop lighting up like a traffic light?” he teased as he strode toward the house.

“Around you? Probably never,” Cullen muttered to himself, rubbing the nape of his neck as he willed the color back down. He had never been able to acclimatize to speaking about anything of a sexual nature, always feeling awkward and embarrassed when it would come. He doubted that would change simply due to being around Carver.

When they entered the kitchen, Carver whirled around to jab a finger in Cullen’s chest. “It’s your turn to cook, ser,” he jested, pointing a finger over his shoulder at the stove. “I’m not picky, so feed me whatever you want.”

“Well, that will most likely be macaroni and cheese,” Cullen responded. He was by no means an accomplished cook, living mostly on take-out as he worked most hours of the day. He hardly ever had time to prepare himself food, so his skills were a bit rusty, at best. He rooted through the cupboards until he found a pre-packaged box of the Kraft variety, pulling down two, just to be safe. A quick glance behind him showed Carver leaning against the fridge, head tilted to the side as he watched. He pulled out a pot, carefully measuring out the exact amount of water listed on the box- much to Carver’s amusement- before adding the noodles. “7 minutes,” he said, sliding over to the microwave to set a timer. As soon as his finger pressed the start button, a pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling him back into Carver’s chest.

Cullen shuddered as a mouth nibbled on the shell of his ear while a hand reached down to cup him. Soon the mouth was trailing down the side of the ear to find his neck, nipping softly at the exposed skin. Cullen leaned his head back, letting it fall onto Carver’s shoulder, as his eyes closed and his breathing became more heavy.

“Mmm, you like it when I touch you, don’t you?” Carver’s voice had gained a husky quality, and he spoke as he variated nibbling at the skin and pressing open-mouthed kisses to it. He squeezed where Cullen’s member was slowly hardening, eliciting a gasp from him and a thrust upward. “Mmm, I like it when I touch you, too.” Carver rubbed his own erection against Cullen’s backside, and Cullen moaned at the feeling. “But this is what we did last time. I want something different,” he said as he withdrew his hand, pulling away from Cullen.

Cullen whined softly at the loss of heat and friction, but he was not disappointed for long. Carver moved to his side, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back, pushing until he was up against a wall. “Better,” the man murmured, a wicked glint in his eye. Cullen shifted the weight to the heels of his feet as he leaned against the wall behind him, watching Carver with wide eyes. A hand reached down to toy with the front of his jeans, Cullen inhaling sharply as a finger slid along the waistband. Carver pressed up against him, breath hot on his neck as he whispered, “I know _exactly_ what to do with you, Knight-Captain.” The use of his title sent a thrill of anticipation rushing through his veins, and he surged forward to place a desperate kiss on Carver’s lips. Carver chuckled into it before returning it enthusiastically, one hand reaching up to tangle in his blonde curls. Cullen placed a hand on the back of Carver’s head, sliding his hand in between the soft black hair and pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss. He parted his lips, tongue dashing out to meet Carver’s, the passion building between then. His other hand landed on Carver’s waist, gripping the bare skin tightly.

Carver slipped a hand between them, snaking it down to expertly unbutton the jeans, pushing them down Cullen’s hips. Cullen let out a loud moan into Carver’s mouth when the hand grasped his stiffened shaft, slowly pulling up on it through the fabric. He shook at the sensation, pushing into Carver’s palm. A deep chuckle pealed from low in Carver’s throat, and he broke their kiss, both of them panting. A cheeky grin appeared on his face, and he slowly fell to his knees, his hands caressing the sides of Cullen’s hips. Cullen watched him, breath hitching when he felt fingers curl into the waistband of his smalls, sliding them down slowly over his hips. Carver gasped softly when Cullen’s erection sprang free, reaching out to slide a finger along the side. Cullen slammed his head against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as he sucked in a breath.

“Fucking _yeah,_ Cullen,” Carver mumbled, wrapping his fingers around Cullen’s member, giving it a small tug. Cullen groaned, rolling his hips forward, begging silently for more.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

“Bloody fucking void,” Carver cursed, releasing him to stand up and stomp over to the microwave. Cullen opened his eyes and watched as he aggressively turned off the timer before grabbing the pot of noodles and tossing them in the strainer.

“I-I’m sorry, let me-” he started, standing up away from wall. Carver let out a low growl, leveling him with a smoldering look and motioning for him to stay put as he placed the noodles back into the pot and drizzled then with olive oil before placing a lid on it. Cullen let himself fall back against the wall when Carver placed the pot back on the now unlit stove, pivoting to face him again.

“Now, where were we?” Carver asked, placing a finger on his chin in mock-thought. “Ah yes, I was about to _blow you._ ” Taking a few steps forward, he kneeled again, this time licking a broad stripe from the base of the shaft to the head without pausing.

Cullen let out a shuddering moan, biting his lip as the pleasure rippled through him. He forced himself to look down at Carver, who was grinning wickedly up at him, eyes blown wide with lust. “That’s right, watch me. Watch me suck the cock of the Knight-Captain, make him come with my mouth.”

The words had the intended effect, as Cullen reached down to wrap his fingers in Carver’s hair and he stuttered out, “C-Carver, p-please…”

Carver’s grin increased as he placed a kiss at the tip, watching Cullen writhe against the wall. “What do you want, Cullen?” he growled, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“P-please,” Cullen whined, unused to the intense heat that was raging throughout his body. When Carver didn’t move save for raising an eyebrow, Cullen slammed his head back against the wall in frustration, letting out a small whimper. “Carver, _please_ , t-take me in your mouth.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Carver asked, placing a kiss on both of his hips. “All you had to do was _ask_.”

Cullen gasped when Carver descended on him, his erection fully encased in a wet heat he’d never felt before. He tightened his hold on the soft black hair, grasping firmly on the last trace of self-control he had not to thrust into the hungry mouth in front of him. Carver twirled his tongue around, sucking and flicking in ways that made Cullen shiver and cry out softly, eliciting a pleasure he’d never known. He had thought the handjob at the mansion was amazing; this was much, much better.

The heat inside of him coiled tighter, and he felt himself approaching the precipice. “C-Carver…nnghn… I-I’m… _oh sweet Maker_ …” Carver hummed, sending vibrations up his shaft that echoed throughout his body. Suddenly he was crashing over the edge, and he cried out Carver’s name as he came, all the while Carver continuing to suckle him gently until the orgasm was complete.

He untangled his hands from the now-messy black hair, letting them drop to his side as he panted, gazing down at the man before him. Carver released him with a soft _pop!_ and stood back up, leaning forward to kiss him roughly. Cullen moaned as he tasted himself on Carver, suddenly wanting to do more. It must have shown in his kissing, for Carver let out a rumble of a laugh as he pulled away, smirking at him.

“Now, now, Knight-Captain, you need to rest before we can do anything else,” he chided kindly, wiggling a finger at him. “And I have food to cook.”

“Fuck… food…” Cullen gasped out between heavy breaths, Carver raising a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

“He swears! Surely nugs are flying if he swears and talks dirty on the same day!” Cullen reached out and smacked him on the arm, laughing breathlessly.

“I guess you bring out the animal in me,” he responded, smiling at the grinning man in front of him. “But what about you?”

Carver tilted his head to the side, his look turning questioning. “What about me? Oh,” he said as he followed Cullen’s glance downward to his shorts that were doing a poor job of hiding his own erection. “Oh, no, I have plans to take care of that later, trust me.” Cullen blushed at the lascivious tone, his smile turning shy.

“It’s so cute when you blush,” Carver teased, poking Cullen on the nose. “Like you’re innocent, ‘cept I know you’re not- not anymore, at least.” A thoughtful look crossed his face as he gazed at Cullen. “You a virgin, Cullen? Have you _ever_ done anything like this before?”

Cullen turned a deeper shade of red at the question, raising a hand rub at his neck as he slowly shook his head. “I have always avoided physical temptation,” he responded quietly, shrugging his shoulders. “You are the first person that I have been unable to resist.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s get this food finished, and then I’ll show you the _real_ fun we can have.” Carver winked at him, turning to the stove

Biting his lip, Cullen watched as he whistled while grabbing the ingredients needed to finish the concoction. He was curious what Carver’s idea of fun could be, and, admittedly, rather interested to find out.

 

* * *

 

They remained at the cabin for another two weeks while things in Kirkwall came to a head. Varric’s spies found the Templars that were assigned to kidnap Carver, and, as Cullen had suspected, proof that they were working directly under Meredith’s orders. Meetings between the College and the Chantry continued on uninterrupted, an agreement being reached fairly easily after Meredith was fired from her position by the Grand Cleric. Varric had tipped off someone fairly high-ranking in the Chantry about Meredith’s discretions, the paper trail speaking for itself when the claims were investigated.

As for Carver and Cullen, well, Carver taught Cullen many things of the physical nature, while Cullen slowly brought Carver out of his shell to explore things on the emotional level. A relationship blossomed between the two, Cullen deciding that he was free to be with this man if he pleased, regardless of if it lost him his job.

They were scheduled to leave on a Tuesday afternoon, a car coming around to pick them up shortly after lunch. They decided to make the most of their final morning in the lodge; spending it in Carver’s room.

“Nghn, C-Carver, _please_ , Carver,” Cullen moaned as Carver suckled and licked his aching shaft. Carver glanced up at the writhing man, raising an eyebrow; his way of asking what Cullen wanted. Cullen let out a loud gasp when Carver flicked his head _just so_ , tossing his head back into the pillows. His breath sawed in and out of him, and he reached down to grab hold of black locks, pulling Carver off of him and up to place a sizzling kiss on his lips.

“What do you want, Knight-Captain?” Carver purred against him, rubbing his erection against Cullen’s and sending pleasure spiraling through both of them. “Just tell me what you _need,_ ” he growled, biting at Cullen’s neck, kissing his way down to his collarbone to nibble some more.

“I-I want…” he let out a loud whine and bucked up when Carver reached down and encased both of their cocks in one of his large, calloused palms, rubbing slowly. “Y-you. Inside of m-me.”

Carver stilled his movements, sitting up to look down at Cullen. “Are you sure?” he asked carefully, head tilted to the side. “Don’t feel like you need to, I’m fine with what we’ve been doing.”

Cullen nodded quickly, chewing on his lip before confirming. “I want to. I want you, Carver.” In their short amount of time together, they had managed to do a lot of different things, but the one position left untouched was Cullen on the bottom. He had been moderately unnerved about it at first for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Carver had been patient and supportive, showing him there were plenty of other things for them to do, not pushing him in the slightest; something he would be eternally grateful for.

Now, he was ready.

Carver gazed down at him a little longer before reaching over to grab the bottle of oil on the nightstand. “I want you to let me know if I hurt you, and I’ll stop right away, yeah?” he said softly, uncapping the top and pouring some of the liquid into his hand. Cullen nodded, excitement fluttering through him as he watched Carver moisten his fingers. Carver slid down to sit on his heels between Cullen’s legs, placing them on his shoulders, never breaking eye contact. Cullen let out a gasp when he felt a finger trace around his puckered entrance before slowly dipping in, the gasp turning to a moan as heat shot straight to his groin.

“More, Carver, I want _more,_ ” he panted, letting his head fall to the bed when he felt the second finger slide in. He squirmed as they parted and stretched, pumping softly, a third joining when there was room. Pleasure cascaded through his body, and let out a long moan, whimpering for more still.

The fingers receded, and he whined at first. Then he felt the head of Carver’s length lining up, and looked up to see Carver watching him. “Please,” he whispered, placing a hand on Carver’s cheek. There was a flame living inside of the other man’s eyes, burning low and steady, and Cullen shivered with anticipation. Slowly Carver pushed in, steady but ever so gently, and Cullen inhaled sharply, hands fisting in the blankets beneath him as he was slowly filled. Carver stopped once he was fully seated, breathing jaggedly, allowing both Cullen and himself to adjust to the feeling. The longer he remained the still, the more Cullen felt like he was going to combust with desire.

“Nghn…Carver,” he mumbled, rolling his hips up toward his lover. Carver let out a low groan at the action, his eyes flying shut and entire body shuddering. “M-move,” Cullen pleaded, rolling his hips again.

Carver’s eyes flew open as he pulled back slowly before thrusting back in, starting a pace that Cullen felt was agonizingly slow. Every time Carver plunged forward, Cullen would roll his hips up, allowing him to enter deeper. Gradually the tempo increased, Carver driving himself in a little harder each time, eliciting needy noises and whines from Cullen.

The pace became hot and heavy, Carver’s thrusts becoming slightly more erratic. He reached around a leg, wrapping his fingers around Cullen’s bobbing cock, pumping in unison. Cullen undulated beneath him, gasping as he felt the heat flame high and higher inside him.

“C-Come for me, Knight-Captain,” Carver snarled, driving deeper into him. “I w-want…nnghn… all of Kirkwall to know you’re _mine_.” He lunged forward, placing a sloppy kiss on his lips.

White exploded before Cullen’s eyes as he shattered, keening loudly. Carver growled, biting Cullen’s lower lip as he followed him into ecstasy, bodies shaking in pleasure. They rode out the storms of their orgasms together, Carver flopping down on top of Cullen when it was done.

Cullen ran his hand through Carver’s hair, feeling the shivers it sent through the other man’s body. “Thank you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on top of his head before resuming his hand movements.

“Mm? You’re welcome?” Cullen let out a small laugh at the hazy answer; he wouldn’t have expected Carver to know why he was thanking him even if they weren’t lying in post-coital bliss.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he clarified, smiling when Carver moved to rest his weight on his elbows, cocking his head to the side. “I mean… I’m glad you pushed for this. For us.”

Carver let out a chuckle, a lazy smile adorning his face. “Hey, I didn’t necessarily expect to get a boyfriend out of the deal. I just knew you were hot.” He shrugged, unabashed when Cullen gently punched him on the arm. “You’re way out of my league, Cullen. I never thought I’d get to shag the bloody Knight-Captain, let alone more than once.”

“Hmm. Well, I think we should shower before the Carta shows up. Do you agree?” Cullen asked, smirking at the man above him.

Laughing, Carver climbed off of him, offering a hand to help him up. “Yeah, that’d probably be good.”

They made their way to the shower, though if they remained clean after was questionable.

~*~

Garrett was livid upon finding out why Carver had left, even attempting to punch Cullen. Anders held him back, trying to talk sense into him, explaining it was for the good of everyone that they had kept it a secret.

Cullen decided that maybe he did like Anders, after all.

He was utterly flabbergasted when he was called to the Chantry to be proclaimed the new Knight-Commander, having been expecting to lose his job. When he brought up the fact that he effectively abandoned his position, she told him it was to save an innocent life and prevent a war, so she believed it righteous. He had then managed to stutter out the generics of his relationship before Elthina raised a hand to silence him, assuring him that neither she nor the Maker cared who he dated, so long as it did not interfere with his work. He assured her that it wouldn’t.

A few months after Cullen’s promotion, he moved to a house in one of the middle-class neighborhoods in Hightown, not having any desire to join the nobles even though he could now afford such a place. To his surprise and delight, Carver moved in with him, insisting on paying him half of the bills. It was not needed, but Cullen understood the need for Carver to be self-sufficient.

One day while cleaning, Cullen stumbled upon Carver’s sketchbook and asked if he could look through it. Carver waved him on, telling him it was nothing special; Cullen disagreed. Carver had it filled with little comic strips revolving around a young warrior during the Dragon Age and his adventures; later on, he was joined by another warrior, one strangely resembling Cullen. They were funny yet heartwrenching, and Cullen convinced him to approach Varric with them. Carver grudgingly agreed, and they traversed into Lowtown to meet the multi-talented dwarf. Varric was shocked and amazed, and immediately offered to publish Carver’s work.

“See? Now you can make a name for yourself,” Cullen said when they left, Carver speechless at the opportunity presented him. “You could have been drawing this whole time had you but shown someone.”

Carver shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe. But I owe it all to you. Thank you, Cullen.”

Cullen leaned over as they walked to the car, whispering in Carver’s ear, “why don’t you make it up to me later?” When he pulled back, he was smirking, color high in his cheeks.

Laughing, Carver shoved him away. “Will you ever stop blushing?”

“Most likely not.”

Carver flashed him a wicked grin. “Let’s see if I can change that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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